"Don't look that much different from Brooklyn," said Harley, staring out the window.

"Doesn't look
that much different from Brooklyn," corrected her father. "You need to
talk like a big girl now, huh, Harley? You're almost four, so you need
to speak like a grown up. You don't wanna grow up with bad speech
patterns so everyone will think you're stupid, do ya?"

"No, Daddy," agreed Harley, playing with the arms of her teddy bear.

"Why
don't you pull over at that gas station, George, so we can fill up the
tank?" asked Harley's mother, pointing. "And maybe they'll have a
mechanic there who can have a look at the car…"

"I sell cars,
Gladys!" snapped Harley's father. "I'll tell you what's wrong with the
car – it's old, and it's got a lotta miles on it! There ain't no quick
fix a mechanic can give it! They ain't miracle workers!"

"Let's just fill up the tank, then," said Harley's mother. "Please, George."

He
sighed but obeyed, pulling into the gas station. "Harley, you and Mr.
Bear wanna stretch your legs?" asked Mrs. Quinzel, turning to smile at
her daughter.

"You got anyone here who could take a look under the hood?" asked Mr. Quinzel. "Car's just been making some funny noises."

"Funny
how?" asked the owner, putting down the pump and lifting the hood. His
dull eyes had become interested, and while the two men examined the car,
Harley skipped over to look at the ice creams in the gas station shop
window. She suddenly heard a noise behind the building, and peered
around the corner.

There was a small alley by the side of the
building, full of broken cars and discarded parts. A young, teenage boy
was seated on the hood of one of the broken cars, puffing on a
cigarette. He was thin and pale, but with bright, strange, green eyes,
eyes that were burning with a weird fire, thinking distant thoughts.

He
looked up and saw Harley, and scowled. Then he put a finger to his lips
as he held up the cigarette. "Let me know if you see my old man
coming," he muttered. "He'd belt me if he saw me with a cigarette. I
ain't supposed to be smoking."

"You aren't supposed to be
smoking," corrected Harley, casually, as she swung Mr. Bear from one
arm. "You're bigger than me – you should speak better than me."

The boy's scowl deepened. "Is that a fact, kid?" he muttered, inhaling from the cigarette.

"Yeah, it is," retorted Harley, firmly. "And you're a kid too. Just a bigger one than me."

"I'm sixteen," he snapped. "What are you, two?"

"I'm almost four!" snapped Harley.

The boy snorted. "Big girl," he muttered, sarcastically.

"Yeah,
I am," retorted Harley, putting her hands on her hips. "I got a bigger
brain than you, anyway. I know smoking is bad for you. You must be
pretty stupid if you're sixteen and you ain't learned that yet."

He
snorted again. "Why doncha come back when you've grown up, kid?" he
muttered, inhaling from his cigarette again. "Maybe when you've lost the
teddy bear."

"Christ, kid, doncha have any real friends to play with?" asked the boy, exhaling the cigarette.

"I
don't need real friends," retorted Harley. "Mr. Bear is better than
anybody real, because he can be whatever I want him to be."

"Mr. Bear?" snorted the boy, derisively. "Really? That's the best you can come up with? Ain't you got no imagination?"

"Yeah,
I got a great imagination!" snapped Harley. "That's why I prefer Mr.
Bear to real people! Real people are boring, because they don't change.
Pretend people can be anything you imagine them to be."

The boy smiled. "What's your name, kid?" he asked, puffing on the cigarette.

"Harleen Frances Quinzel," replied Harley.

"Quite the mouthful there," he retorted.

"Yeah, call me Harley," she said. "Everyone does. What's your name?"

He exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Jack," he retorted.

"That's it? Just Jack?" asked Harley.

"Just Jack," he repeated, nodding. "Ain't gonna keep my old man's name, but I ain't decided on a new name for myself yet."

"Why ain't you gonna keep the name you were born with?" asked Harley.

"Because my old man's a scumbag," retorted Jack.

"That ain't a very nice thing to say about your Daddy," said Harley. "I love my Mommy and Daddy very much."

"Well,
ain't you lucky, kiddo?" snapped Jack. "Lucky you got parents you can
respect. That don't change the fact that my old man's a scumbag."

"Why do you think that?" asked Harley.

"Christ, kid, what are you, a goddamn shrink?" he snapped.

Harley clapped her hand over her ears. "Don't swear!" she cried. "That's bad!"

"Yeah, I'm a bad man, kid," he snapped.

"You ain't a man," retorted Harley. "You're a kid, just like me."

Jack was about to respond angrily, when a furious voice shouted, "Jack!"

The
owner of the gas station suddenly rounded the corner, and the fury on
his face only increased when he saw the cigarette in the boy's hand.
"Jack, how many goddamn times have I gotta beat you before you stop
stealing my goddamn smokes?!" he shouted.

"Don't shout at him!"
piped up Harley. The owner looked down at her. "I…saw them in the window
and wanted to know how they worked. He was showing me," she invented.

The
owner took a deep breath, getting his temper under control.
"Oh…well…don't worry about it, then, sweetie," he said, patting Harley
on the head. "Jack, get off your lazy ass and wash the car windows while
I find some spark plugs for the customers," he snapped, glaring at the
boy.

Jack put out the cigarette reluctantly and slid to the
ground, trudging over to the car. "Hurry up about it!" shouted the
owner, striking Jack across the back of the head. "And smile for the
customers, for God's sake!"

Jack didn't smile – his scowl deepened
but he said nothing, grabbing a spray bottle and a rag. "Why is your
Daddy so mean to you?" asked Harley, following him back to the car.

"Just shut up, kid!" snapped Jack.

Harley's eyes filled with tears at being spoken to in that tone, and she suddenly began crying.

"Hey,
hey, kid, I'm sorry," muttered Jack, the fury in his eyes melting
suddenly as he sank to his knees to look her in the face. "I ain't…I
ain't angry at you. You don't need to cry."

He reached into his
pocket and pulled out a dirty handkerchief, which he used to wipe the
tears from her face. "In fact, I owe you one," he muttered. "Taking the
wrap for that cigarette thing – you got guts, kid, I'll say that for
you. Now, c'mon, stop crying. You're a big girl – you said so yourself.
Big girls don't cry."

"They do if people are mean to them," muttered Harley, wiping her eyes.

Jack's
jaw tightened, but he obeyed. "Harley, leave the boy to his work," said
Mrs. Quinzel. "C'mere. You got dirt all over your face."

Jack's
eyes burned in fury as he saw Mrs. Quinzel carefully clean Harley's face
off from where his oil-covered handkerchief had just stained it. He
unleashed his anger on the windows, scrubbing far harder than was
strictly necessary. The owner returned with the spark plugs and began
tinkering under the hood.

"There you go, Mr. Quinzel," he said,
slamming the hood down at last. "That should get you as far as Gotham
West anyway, and hopefully all the way back to Brooklyn."

"Yeah, I
think I'll have to invest in a new car when we get home," agreed Mr.
Quinzel. "Thanks for your help though, Mr. Napier. How much do I owe
you?"

While they haggled the price, Mrs. Quinzel buckled Harley
back into the backseat. Harley watched Jack's face as he leaned against
the window studying the conversation, grim and unsmiling, eyes full of
rage and pain and hatred. She tapped on the window and he looked over at
her. She stuck her tongue out at him, making a face, and was pleased to
see him grin. A grin that fell suddenly when Mr. Quinzel knocked past
him. "Oh, sorry, kid," he said. "Uh…here's a tip for you," he said,
handing him a dollar bill.

"Thank you…sir," muttered Jack, glaring at the bill furiously.

"Your old man sure does know a lot about cars," commented Mr. Quinzel as he opened the door to the driver's seat.

"Yes, sir," muttered Jack. "He does…know a lot about cars."

"If you're ever looking for a job in Brooklyn, you get in touch," said Mr. Quinzel. "We could use knowledgeable guys like you."

"We
sure will, Mr. Quinzel," said Mr. Napier, approaching Jack and laying a
hand on his shoulder. "You have a safe journey now. And I hope your
business meeting goes well."

"Thank you. It was nice to have met you, Mr. Napier, and your boy."

"Bye bye, Jack!" called Harley, rolling down the window and sticking her head out.

"Bye, kid," he said, smiling at her. "Bye, Mr. Bear," he said, nodding at the teddy. "And remember, I owe you one," he murmured.

"Don't worry, I won't forget," she said, beaming.

Jack
waved after her as they drove off. The moment they were gone, Mr.
Napier's smile dropped. "Who the hell do they think they are?" he
muttered, reaching for a cigarette. "Working class trash, same as us,
and yet they think they're so much better. So high and mighty. Did you
see the way they looked at us?"

"I
think you are," he interrupted. "I think you better change your tone,
Jack, before I have to beat some respect into you. I'm your father. You
respect me."

"Yes, sir," muttered Jack.

Mr. Napier inhaled
from his cigarette. "You're too much like your mother, Jack, that's your
problem," he muttered. "Disobedient, stubborn, antagonistic. No wonder
she abandoned you. She probably ran away because she couldn't stand to
see herself in you."

"It's not my fault she ran away," whispered Jack.

"What did you say?" murmured Mr. Napier.

"It's
not my fault she ran away," repeated Jack, louder. "It's yours. She ran
away because she was sick of you getting drunk and violent. I know I
am."

Without warning, Mr. Napier struck him a powerful blow across
the face. "Don't you…DARE…defend the filthy slut!" he shouted. "Don't
you dare blame me for her leaving you! She ran away because she didn't
love you, and she didn't wanna have a kid hanging around her, hampering
her chances of hooking up with another guy! She didn't want you, she
never wanted you, and neither did I!"

He punched Jack again. "But
I'm stuck with you now," he hissed. "That little tramp has left me to
deal with her own goddamn mess! You should thank me for not sending you
out on the streets with your whore of a mother! But you're spoiled and
selfish and ungrateful, just like she was!"

"Don't
you raise your voice to me, boy!" yelled Mr. Napier, hitting him again.
The blow knocked Jack back into the alley, slamming him against the
junk pile of ruined cars and parts. Jack tried to catch his breath,
winded. His shaking hand reached for a thin, blunt, metal pipe as his
father approached him.

"And
I'll see you in hell!" shouted Jack, slamming the pipe upward and
making it collide with his father's face with a satisfying crack. Jack
laughed as the blood flew everywhere, and he slammed the pipe harder
into his father's face. He kept laughing as he continued to beat his
father, who was screaming under the merciless blows. At last, Mr. Napier
stopped screaming, but still Jack didn't stop, beating the body until
it was an unrecognizable mass of blood and bone. Then he dropped the
pipe, panting from the exertion, covered in blood, and beaming.

He
heard the distant sounds of police sirens and raced into the shop,
punching the cash register so the drawer popped open. Jack grabbed all
the cash inside, shoving it into a bag, and then helped himself to
several packets of cigarettes, and bits of food and drink, mostly
alcohol. He slung the bag over his shoulder and then raced away from the
gas station, disappearing into the shadows of Gotham City.

Annaruto:
I really really love this book! I prefer this over the Galatea one. I feel bad since you can’t post it here because you said Galatea has claims over it, but how come other stories of Galatea are also on here like mate me, the dragons princess, and others. I understand if you can’t, but I guess it...

Rebekah Sever:
I like the back story Sin and Blair have together, knowing each other since children, I do like that there is no conflict so far, just the couple being happy doing somewhat domestic things, the scenes in high school grab my attention and I enjoy the atmosphere of scandal it gives. Just please do ...

Marietta Balogbog:
Well for the flat of story is good but something missing and nut so straight forward I can't fell the sexual story but nut so. But its good book hope I help something for you to write more 👋 👋 👋 see your next book...

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